'why i need a radio'

when i was maybe five
i got up early one saturday
spread all my dad's records across
the floor
and put some fifties greatest
hits compilation with a yellow and red
cover and a jukebox on the front
on my white fisher-price
record player
with a rainbow sticker
on the lid

great balls of fire -
turned it up loud
started dancing and doing somersaults
and spinning my little body
all around the room
in spaceship pajamas

then my dad stumbled in still
drunk from the night before
thick black hair on his pale skinny legs
eyes bloodshot half open screaming
'WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING'
kicked the record player across the room
and started stomping on the records -
tiny black bits of plastic stuck
in the bottoms of his bare feet,
and blood stains smeared across the
pale blue carpet

breathing heavy, but calm now:
'there are
other people here -
you need to be quiet'
he left the room

and i've been silent ever since

Moi, j'avais jamais rien dit. Rien

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